I’m just a vessel
Cheap skin for this quick and dirty party
Blown up and thrown into the grass
One glittering eye

I can decant you all my wisdom
But even Solomon was a slave,
In the end
I lie here bedside my foreign husband,
For all his agnostic silence,
A better Christian than I
(At least at cursing)

I dry the mouth
Not the sweet Reisling promised
Not full-bodied and bold
Not the delicate French beauty
Common plonk
Who made you from clean water?
More like the stone of the jars

In the morning I lie blinking
Puffed with sour grapes
Awaiting my fate,
The sun on my swollen cheeks

If I could have warned you I would have
Miracles happen to some
I had thought this for you
I was told of this
Only given one word of advice:
Trust.